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Socially Deranged Mentality Special Issue: Censorship

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· 4 years ago

  
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SDM Special Issue: Censorship 
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"Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one." 
               -Larry Flynt, The People vs. Larry Flynt 
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Table of contents:
pg. 1intro
pg. 2 AOL in all its glory: antihero
pg. 3 Wal-Mart-ism: armchair
pg. 4 Intangible Stuff: dave black
pg. 5 America in all its splendor: pete (dwain)
pg. 6 Drugs! Drugs! Drugs-n-drugs! lockout
pg. 7 Censorship Special: in excess
pg. 8 To be: raggedy ann
pg. 9 Or not to be: g. nih ton
pg. 10 Graceful Aging: paul b. whitley
pg. 11 We got some bad mothaÖthe credits

pg. 1

Introduction

What you have here is (part 2 of) an SDM special. Not that this matters, but some schmuck was bitching about their assumption that we never did anything. Actually, this has happened a number of times. What's the point? This special is us doing something. No one here's bragging, but what we're doing is much more than those icons you see on web pages everywhere. Some people tell you that the freedom of expression exists so we have to keep it. What good does that do you? Most people out there have yet to grasp the concept of freedom of speech and expression. Not only do we understand it, but we fully appreciate it. What this special issue is all about is that freedom and how it exists. We're not here to attack censorship. We're here to show what it can do. And that, is far more that advertising a cause you have yet to come into contact with. (Preaching something is one thing. Doing something with it is another.)

Before you get into it, how about a concise definition: Censorship is the control of what people may say or hear, write or read, or see or do (World Book Encyclopedia, 1981). In other words, if we take away from or alter it for the sole purpose of being in control of what you read here, it is censorship.

pg. 2

aol sucks
by: antihero

hi. i'm antihero, and i use aol. yeah, it does feel like a damn acoholics anonymous meeting. but i started using aol because a lot of my friends around the shithole i live in used it, and i wanted to stay in touch with all of them. so i said "fuck it. i'll use aol. it can't be that bad." i had no idea. to start with, i first used aol in january. that was back before they "increased capacity in line with the requests of their valued users." lying bastards. lots of busy signals. twenty or thirty minutes of just trying to get through to an access number was about usual. so i'd sit, listening to the radio, waiting, trying the fucking access number over, and over, and over, and over, and over... you get the picture. then, when i finally got on, it'd be like, "cool. i'm signed on. wow." never doing anything on aol, of course. the entire scope and content of america online couldn't interest a syphilitic donkey for more than twenty minutes. but, surfing the net is still possible, even with aol. okay. so i'm on the web, doing whatever. not using aol's worse than shitty browser, of course. at least it's possible to use netscape on aol. so i'm cruising happily ass along. then, they started using these devices to clear up line space. first, is the idle timer. not too hard to work around, as long as you have traffic coming in or going out. but then they got these irritating fucking little timers. every forty six minutes, aol flashes a timer at you. often, it'll interrupt a download, or at least slow the shit out of it. either way, if you don't respond in ten minutes, you're booted. have you ever heard of a store that tries to make paying customers leave as quickly and forcefully as possible? neither have i. but apparently, aol, while "valuing its customers above all," has heard of it. so, if it weren't for the fact that all of my acquaintances are still here on aol, and if i wasn't known world wide as antihero, i'd drop it in a second. anyway, here's my little rant against the aol behemoth. thank you, come again.

pg. 3

Souls for the Devil
by: Armchair

I was told not to generally address (attack) censorship, so what I'll do is address (attack) a facet of it. Wal-Mart-ism. This is nothing more than a "cleaned" version of an album so that little children can enjoy the benefits of sex, violence, and anything else harmful without actually knowing that it exists. As I see it, this is only a bullshit practice that only serves to endanger the minds of these little brats. What's even worse is that some places you aren't even notified if you get a Wal-Marted version. It's happened to me before and it is a act that I loathe considerably. Sure, I should know which ones are going to be edited, but it's nice to know which artists have sold out by compromising their creative integrity. Walk into a Wal-Mart, a K-Mart, or Books-a-million and you'll find absolutely no "Advisory" labels. It's a fair trade since you get to hear scratches and other sound effects instead of "fuck," "bitch," "damn," or "asshole." Of course, this is only if it carried that stigma label before being compromise. No label, no ripoff.

The lyrical purity isn't all that's been fucked over. Song titles are changed for purpose of kissing the ass of wholesome America. Nirvana's "Rape Me," an anti-rape song became "Waif me," which now gives the impression of being about anorexic models. As if that weren't enough, the cover art can gets a complete raping as well. The Smashing Pumpkin's "Siamese Dream" lost all title references on the back because of "Silverfuck" and the booklet became a hard to read pamphlet. And you know what? There's isn't a one damn mention of what the tracks are, because there is no listing and the pictures of the pages from the original book are too damn small to read. If I hadn't received it as a gift, I would've been really pissed.

Of course, you can't blame money hungry Wal-Mart for wanting to have parent appeal. Blame the money hungry whores (musicians) who are willing to compromise all that they have worked for for a few more thousands. If you're saying it's the record companies, that's bullshit. I find it hard to believe that major musical acts like the Smashing Pumpkins, LL Cool J, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Nirvana have no say in what is done to their music after they've finished the album. If the music was that important, then the fans would have no trouble getting their asses to a real store instead of a white trash outlet center. I've never seen a 2pac album in Wal-Mart and he did pretty well, as with Marilyn Manson. If you want to find an underlying message here, I'm simply saying that many musical artists are willing to do anything for the almighty buck, including that which should be the unthinkable.

pg. 4

An irreverent piece of shit.
By: Dave Black

Buy a whore. Buy a life. Kill your child. Ease your strife. Get some more. Go for broke. Take it easy. Prison sex for free. Kill yourself tonight. Fucked in the ass. Fucked in the front. The taste of vomit smells good. Remember the forgotten. Forget those remembered. See the future. See the past. Live the present. Know your enemy. Know your friends. All are gone. Never to be known. See the homework? Do it again. Forget it ever was. That was it. This is now. The best in things in life are never free. Never have been. Never will be. See way to forget. Your remember now, don't you. Please forget. I told you so. You'll tell me too. It doesn't matter, wealth is power. Wealth is evil. Wealth is your god. Bow down. East coast. West coast. Shipping magnates. Makes no sense. Not at all. If Opie was real, you'd be normal. If Joanie loved Chauchie, there'd be no divorce. All is sacred. I burned the walls. I burned them down again. Once upon a time, they saw clear skies. No more skies. No more roses. No more I love yous. You can't afford it. Neither can she. Marriage? Pre-nup. Funeral? Bitching. Your memory is a pile of shit trampled. Eat up. Swallow. Be merry. Your father and mother died before you even cried out loud. They saw you. So did I. Your grandparents hate you. Key to the growing up quicker clause. What? If you paid me, I'll be your friend. Please! Please! Pretty please. Ugly sleaze. I know your game and you don't even have one. Not anymore. I shot your child full of bad ideas and thoughts he shouldn't have until he's older than you. Guess what. He is. You're welcome. I'm a bitch. I'm a liar. I'm the antichrist superstar. I am your worst nightmare. You saw a black man. You saw a hispanic. You ran in a state of panic. I called your bluff. Nigger. Honkey. Kike. Spic. Guinnea. Red. Slant eyes. Mother fucker. Worse yet, you're nothing. You fucked yourself with the virus. Not your partner. Guess again. You still don't know me. If I were the firestarter, Rome would've burned quicker than it did. But I'm not, so it didn't. By the time I get to Arizona, there'll be one more holiday. You don't even know which one. You looked at me, saw yourself and remember to go shopping. I'll rob you later. When I rape your wife, you'll smile. When I hurt your children, you'll sing. When I kill you, you'll be free. I'm only trying to help. So was he. Instead, you clutched your purse and got your ass the hell out of Dodge. Know you don't know where you are. Let me help. I'll chase you until you find a way home. I'll chase you until you remember your sins. I'll chase you until you tell the truth. You stole the book. You vandalized your car. You hit your family. Not me. I'm the scapegoat. I just like the blame. I don't take it. Here goes a mystery. Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum, who's got your kids deaf and dumb? "Not I," said the cat. Not you either you sniveling piece of shit. You went to prison and liked it. I know you did. She wanted it. So did you. I lied. Once more, I lied. I kept on doing it. You can't stop me. I own your soul. I made a typo. You can't piece together the puzzle. Come back. Try again. Visit us often. We'll be seeing you.

pg. 5

America the Beautiful
by: Pete (dwain)

Let's talk about chinks and japs. Store buying. Buying my country. Selfish. Greedy. Eye gouging prices. Fucking the economy with THEIR merchandise, not mine. Ghetto vampires. Never satisfied till it's all gone.

Let's talk about kikes. Jesus killers. Dime stopping fuckers. Hymie. They don't believe in my God. Hitler killed them, made me glad. Money, money, money. Never satisfied till it's gone.

Let's talk about the redskins. The braves. The indians. The savages. The ingrates. The scalpers. The res fuckers. Keep ëem locked in their cage. Let ëem out, and I'm going John Wayne on all their asses.

Let's talk about spics. Wetbacks. Thieves. Cockroach breeders. Julio. Loud. Wannabes. JESUS! Taking my job, my father's job. Sneaky. Crooked. Erik Estrada. Got to kill them just to keep them out. Never satisfied till it's gone.

Let's talk about niggers. Drug Dealers. Crackheads. Welfare mongers. Watermelon eaters. Can't swim. Criminals. Ungrateful. Troublesome. Violent. Rioting. Purse thieves. Al Sharpton. Leroy. Blazing music. Bad music. Rap music. Never satisfied till it's all gone.

Let's talk about honkeys. Can't dance. Can't jump. Smell funny. Small dicks. Talk weird. Slavery. Oppressive fucks. Sister fucking hicks. Bubba. Purse clutchers. The man. Jeff Foxworthy. Easy women. Rednecks. The South. Walk funny. Rodney King! Never satisfied till it's all gone.

pg. 6

The War on Drugs, Part 1: Government Fuckups
by: Lockout

Ok i was asked to do a little government bashing, and couldn't really help but jump at it. We're taking over for the parents for a moment so kiddies just sit back and listen while old uncle Lock tells you a story....Nancy Reagan said, " Just Say No!" and the government war on drugs began....all of a sudden my life's choices were no longer mine, i couldn't use drugs for recreational purposes without the police knocking down my door...fine go ahead and enforce this, it's ok....Next you tell me, ok you need to be 18 to purchase tobacco products....once again, ok....now however if i appear to be less than thirty i get carded for tobacco products....I've noticed now that the government has cracked down on already government controlled substances, that getting completely illegal substances is much easier, and something tells me that alot of kids found out the same thing...In the Richmond County and Augusta area it is much easier for me to score a coupla rocks or a dime bag than a pack of cigarettes if i'm under the age of 18. Now would someone please tell me what good these new laws have done besides promote the use of illegal drugs???? Someone is always going to be doing something wrong and the government is always but unsuccessfully going to try and fix it, however as usual they will do more harm than good. Read your history books on prohibition, this time however it's not the mob, but the Colombian cartels that are going to be running the streets...to quote G'n'R "Welcome to the Jungle, It gets worse here every day."

pg. 7

In Excess:

There comes a moment in almost every artist's career (musician, painter, writer, etc) where her or she is censored. Be it willingly or forcefully, it happens and hopefully it doesn't go unnoticed. What we will do here in this not-so-special in excess is give a list of those banned, censored, or were given hell for their work. Be it crap or art, here it goes.

Larry Flynt (if you don't know by now, then we can't tell you)
Me So Horny: 2 Live Crew (All the way to the supreme court. If it weren't for this song, where would they be?)
Catcher In The Rye: J.D. Salinger (Every Psychopath and his victim's brother has read this book)
Maya Angelou (some are fearful of truth)
Gangsta Rap (BITCH, HOE, FUCKER, and PUSSY are only bad when you look at them without seeing the sentence)
Mark Twain (Almost every word he wrote gets attacked)
Tupac Shakur: everything, I guess (A storyteller can tell only words that the people can all hear)
Quentin Tarantino (he's a hack, but the stuff makes sense)
Toni Morrison (the man is trying to supress a good african american author)
Showgirls (just our chance to jab this peace of shit)

and G. Nih Ton. We censor him every issue. If we didn't, he'd probably be dead by now.

And one more bit of excess. Villains of freedom. If we had addresses, you'd get them.

Jerry Falwell (see no. 1 above)
C. Dolores Tucker (can't have sex, because she wonders why they call her "bitch")
Tipper Gore (Ice-T had plans for her and her family)
Charles McCarthy (dead, but he's done more for book burning than anyone else)
Bob Dole (NBK and Pulp Fiction were good movies. You just have to see them first)
Pat Buchanun (Where do we begin?)
MTV. They talk a good game, but almost every video you see on that network has been altered to avoid conflict of commercialistic tendencies, keep YOU from seeing what life is really like (seriously), or just because they want to. Nevertheless, they are keeping you from seeing the big picture.

pg. 8

Something Feminine That A Male Cannot Describe Without Looking Like An Idiot
by Raggedy Ann

I don't mean to be an ass (actually, I do) when I write, but when things piss me off, you're gonna know about them. And something has been pissing me off ever since my days at that hell-hole known as middle school. All the chicks reading this can relate, and maybe guys can learn something too.

What is this big fuckin' deal with weight? I'm serious. Who decided that to be so fuckin' beautiful, you have to weight 20 fuckin' pounds? It's actually a joke to me to see the same 5 anorexic girls date all the "hot" guys, and how everyone actually envies them. I've had many a good laugh over those chicks. They think that people do not think they're desirable if they're not drop-dead gorgeous, so they stress. They diet. They spend zillions of hours bitching about such trivial crap. I bitch too, but at least it's not about how many calories my lunch contains. Really, girlies...do you give a crap? When you're dead, is your epitaph going to read, "Here lies Jane. She wasn't popular because she was fat - at least according to society's standards."? No, it is not. As for me, I don't really think about that bullshit. Whoopee, I had a candy bar. La di fuckin' da, a burrito. And it's a miracle! I'm not fat! Maybe I'm lucky, or maybe my attitude towards this black hole of self-pity is just the key to my "hot" body or something, but personally, I don't like to think about it. I have better things to do with my time.

So chicas, in conclusion, don't stress about your bod. "It's what's on the inside that counts." And even if that piece of knowledge IS only what ugly people say, umm...well, I don't know how to end that one. Shit, I wrote myself into a corner. Okay, well, anyway, don't stress, babes...Raggedy Ann loves you all.

pg. 9

Who Not to Be
by: g. nih ton

Everywhere I look today I'm seeing people who make me sick. You know the kind of people I'm referring to. The lady who leaves her kids in the car while she goes "shopping." What in the hell is she shopping for? Aside from beer and other forms of leisure people, a man. No, no, no! I don't mean a father, she just wants a dick to hold and play with. Why not? The brats have their toys, why can't she have hers? She could care less about those kids. Who else is making me sick? The pricks who bitch and moan about why the blacks get all the breaks or why is the white man still getting preferencial treatment in the real world. They don't know what the hell it's like to be on the other side of the fence. I'm not saying either one's right or wrong, I'm just saying that before you go off on some merciless world rampage, you should look at what the hell it is that your killing.

A lot of people who write pragraphs like the one above have a mission. Well, that's not me. If I have a mission it's not right here. I'm not here to preach a revolution or start up some thrill kill cult. What I am here for is to point at change. What kind of a change? I don't know. You tell me. Shit happens for a reason and I'm still trying to find out why. This is just one way to get to the bottom of the pile so read and learn. If you go on you'll see what types of people are out there making all this shit happen. Blame who you will, but we know that I'm right.

This isn't some fundamentalist piece of shit being put out by the some right wing, bible toting, sin throwing, eternally throwing preacher perpetrator. What this is is fact and observation. Mix and match as you will, but the truth hurts.

Your next door neighbor is a prick. I don't have to know him, but he is. The first one to turn a shoulder is your neighbor. Who do you think is making the money while your in prison for some trumped up charged? YOUR MOTHER FUCKING NEIGHBOR! Who in the hell do you think gets all the fucking interview time? Your wife don't know shit, man! And neither do your kids. Besides, what can they gain by your abscence aside from a few paranoia free quickies? Your neighbor is the nosiest mother fucker in your life. Just in case you didn't know, you ARE the next door neighbor. No one is above hipocrisy. No one.
Politicians are special. It is only then when prostitution is glorified to the point of being legal. A politician fucks you for a living and you keep on paying. If a whore fucked me that bad on the streets, I'd complain to the pimp. Too bad these are independent whores.
No one in the media gives a damn about you. If someone kills your wife and/or child, one of satan's messengers may put on the sob face, but no one at Channel 15 gives a damn about you, only your ratings potential. On congratulatory note, how do they keep the straight faces so well?
Yourself (pt1). Nowadays, the word on everyones' minds is "me." ME! ME! ME! ME! Who gives a fuck? There used to be a time when your neighbor was your neighbor and you were his. What happened? Chances are, you're a selfish bastard with a bitch for a wife (assuming she's worth marrying) and your kids are so spoiled a spanking would warrant a lawsuit. Shoot yourself.
Yourself (pt2). Now that's a n oxymoron of sorts. Who's an individual today? Not many. What are the odds that your favorite item of nothingness is the same as your friend's or close enough to it. You're not shit, but your friend is the world. When you realize that your as fake as the gold just like the gold your friend bought, where will everybody be? Shoot your friend. If you did that, would that be suicide? Aw, fuck it, kill everybody.
Your hero is the greatest dickhead in the world. Congratulate him. Why in the fuck would you want to look up to somebody who is supposedly better than you. That sure as hell won't help you or him. Does your so-called hero even know who the fuck you are? Probably not. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but nobody gives a rat's ass whether or not your alive. The only way to get noticed is to piss "Elvis lives" on the doorsteps of the white house. Go ahead do it, not that you'll be remembered.

There are a lot of people who are just fucking this world, but then again, that is everybody. I can't teach you a lesson, but I can open up the opportunity for you to learn. How? Did you see yourself more than once? If not, the lesson will never begin.

pg. 10

Rest in Peace, Stranger.
by: Paul B. Whitley

In less than one month, my grandmother will be having her 100th birthday. Big fucking deal. I will simply take this opportunity to live up to what it is that I want to be here at SDM: the bitch, the asshole, and the irritance. Supposedly, my grandmother's health is failing and the whole family should be there so she can enjoy her final days. This includes me and my siblings as well. You're probably wondering why in the hell I don't want to go to it. Well, here goes: she doesn't even know me. Surely that's the case. I haven't received any Christmas or Birthday Cards (presents are never important), nor was she there for my graduation. Of course, she didn't even know I was graduating since we never kept up any correspondence. I heard that she loves me, but that was only in the lifetime letter I got from an aunt only weeks after her decade visit which was the first of two letters that came two years apart. So she loves me? If I went to that damn birthday party/family reunion would she even recognize me or would I be thrown out by the rest of the family who have no idea of who I am.

So, why I am being so vicious? Well, for starters, my father has never willfully paid child support even though he committed bigamy and alienated the family on my brother's first birthday, at his party. But that's cool, since he said I'm not his son. Furthermore, my dying grandmother never did a damn thing during her tenure as family tyrant. She probably only gave him money for the wedding. Do I love her? Hell no. All I can remember of her is the moth ball smell, which is weird since I've only smelled that three times in my entire life, which makes it unique.

When she dies, I don't want her dying, asking for forgiveness or any of that other cliched bullshit. I want her thinking about why I don't give a damn about her life. I want her to remember that she doesn't know what I look like. I want to her to realize that her son's an asshole who's spawned more assholes than what should be humanly possible. I want her to know that being North Carolina's answer to the Kennedy's is not a good thing, it's a curse. Not only that, it's a fucking joke that she even expected all of her grandchildren to show and wave her off into heaven. Yeah, right.

pg. 11

links:
see/hear/speak no evil: http://www.xnet.com/~paigeone/noevil/noevil.html
censorship in media: http://www-personal.umich.edu/~bleroy/project3/index.html
index on censorship: http://www.oneworld.org/index_oc/
books in progress: http://www.cs.cmu.edu/People/spok/banned-books.html
bonfire of the liberties: http://www.humanities-interactive.org/bonfireindex.html
free expression clearinghouse: http://www.freeexpression.org/
the indecency page: http://cctr.umkc.edu/userx/bhugh/indecent.html
know your enemies: http://www.eff.org/pub/Groups/BCFE/bcfenatl.html

pg. 11

That SDM staff had some bad mothaóHey! Watch yo' mouth. I'm only pissing on SDM. Oh. Then do it then, damnit!

  
a1 asshole                scott seamus 
a2 asshole                paul b. whitley 
crazy ass mother fucker   antihero 
deadbeat bastard          armchair 
shit for brains           dave black 
mark ass buster           pete (dwain) 
the queen bitch           raggedy ann 
the Shit                  lockout 
pansy ass momma's boy     g. nih ton 
the assman                marv albert

Not to sound corporate or anything, but this is the way it goes. The newsletter and its concept belongs to Socially Deranged Publications. Anything written belongs to the respective authors, so please don't go ripping any of us off. We're not getting paid for this, and you shouldn't either, so don't be an asshole, go write something yourself. Give credit where credit's due. Everyone here does what seems to be a good job, so all we're asking is that you respect that.

Never bite your tongue again.